


Missing

by ZombieBabs



Category: The Black Tapes Podcast
Genre: #GiftsForTallPaul2016, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Minor Character Death, Minor Injuries, Missing Persons, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Shippy Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-04 01:37:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6635740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZombieBabs/pseuds/ZombieBabs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dr. Strand is missing. It's up to Alex to find him. Tannis Braun knows more than he's let on. *Edited and revamped, with all new content.*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One: Disappearance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goodskeletonpuns (badskeletonpuns)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badskeletonpuns/gifts).



> Another fill for the Unsoundaversary!!

**I**

It starts with a phone call.

“He’s gone,” says Ruby, as soon as Alex picks up the phone.

“What? Who’s gone? Dr. Strand?”

“No, His Holiness the Dalai Lama. Yes, Dr. Strand.”

Alex’s fingers clench tight around the receiver. “He’s not answering any of your calls?”

“No. I thought he just needed some space. He’s been so withdrawn, lately. I thought going home would do him some good. He could shower and get a change of clothes, eat maybe. But--”

“But what?” Alex coaxes.

“I had such a bad feeling about it, you know? Dr. Strand would say it’s stupid, but something felt so _wrong_. So I called the police. Just to do a wellness check. I thought, better to have him chew me out for disturbing him than sit in the office and worry.”

Alex is starting to have a bad feeling of her own. It sits heavy in her stomach. “What did they find?”

“The entire apartment had been turned upside down, but they said nothing of value appeared to be stolen. There was no sign of Dr. Strand.”

“Oh my god.”

Ruby sniffles. “Something terrible happened. I just know it.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll find him.”

**II**

“Thank you for your call, _again_ , Miss Reagan, but unfortunately, I don’t have any more news in regards to this case.” The annoyance in the detective’s voice is unmistakable. Alex hears a pop of gum on the other line. 

No news, in this case, is not good news. Alex clenches her fist around her recorder. It’s solid weight is a comfort in her hand. “You’re still treating this like a missing persons case.”

The detective sighs. “His apartment was a mess, yes, but lady, I’ve seen my fair share of messy apartments. Hell, my kid’s room looks a hell of a lot like his apartment did.”

“But--”

“There were no signs of forced entry. There were no signs of a struggle. No blood, no bullet casings, no body. No one has been contacted requesting ransom. It’s far more likely the guy up and left.”

“His car was still there.”

“Miss Reagan. I’m sorry that I can’t help you. We’re still looking into the case, obviously, but without anything more to go on right now, isn’t it easier to believe Dr. Strand disappeared of his own accord?”

Alex wants to ask whether the idea is supposed to be easier for her to believe or easier on his caseload, but the man is already talking again.

“If there’s a break in the case, you can be sure that you’ll be the first to know. In the meantime, let us do our jobs.”

Alex thanks him for his time and hangs up with a little more force than necessary.

Frustrated, Alex begins her own investigation.

She asks Nic to see if his information specialist friend can find anything online. 

“There’s nothing to report,” MK says. She always sounds curt, but there’s an undercurrent of frustration there, as well.

“Nothing?” Nic asks.

“Not a peep. Nothing I can find on camera feeds in the surrounding area. No credit card use or cash withdrawn from his account at the bank. No sketchy e-mails sent to or from his address.”

Alex closes her eyes against the news. “And you can’t track his phone?”

“Nope, sorry. Either it’s turned off or the battery died. I did manage to snag a copy of the call record, if you think it will help.”

When Alex doesn’t answer, Nic says, “Sure. We’ll take anything.”

“There’s a ton of outgoing calls to different numbers, but the incoming calls all look to be pretty similar. Just one stands out, called once right before he disappeared. Might just be a wrong number.”

“Great, thanks, MK.”

“No problem. Good luck.” 

The Skype call ends, but Alex is already checking her inbox for MK’s email. She’s heard enough of the interactions between Nic and the hacker to know that she’s already sent it.

There are far more outgoing numbers than there are incoming, just as MK said. Alex recognizes her own number, quite a few times, but she leaves the outgoing list for now. The incoming list is much shorter. Beside her own number she also recognizes Ruby’s extension at The Strand Institute. As she goes down the list--Alex, Alex, Ruby, Alex, Ruby, Ruby, Ruby, Alex--she sees the number that MK mentioned. She stares down at it, hard. It’s familiar, somehow, but no name jumps out at her. 

She types it into her contact list and frowns at the name that pops up. “What the hell?”

“What? Did you find something?”

“Tannis Braun called Strand. One day before Ruby says she’d last seen him.”

Nic’s frown mirrors her own. “The psychic? Are you sure?”

“I double-checked. Look.” Alex turns the screen so Nic can more easily see.

“Why would Tannis Braun be calling Strand? I thought they weren’t exactly friendly.”

“They’re not. I don’t know how Braun would even have Strand’s number. He doesn’t exactly give it out to just anyone.” 

“Maybe he divined it,” Nic says. Even he doesn’t look convinced.

Alex gives him a look before she makes a decision and picks up the phone. She dials and puts the phone on speaker. She has to resist the urge to drum her fingernails across the desk as the phone rings once, twice, three times, before it’s finally picked up.

“Hello,” Braun says.

“Hi, it’s Alex and Nic over at PNWS,” Alex says. 

“He’s in trouble, isn’t he?” 

Alex sits back in her chair. No matter what Strand has told her of Braun’s self-professed abilities, her heart still beats hard in her chest at his question.

“If you mean Dr. Strand,” Nic says, “then yes. He’s missing.”

“I know.”

“Can I ask _how_ you know?”

Braun sighs. “I tried to warn him. Something was coming for him, something dangerous, but he didn’t listen to me. Not even when I tried to tell him the truth about Coralee.”

Alex straightens in her seat, gripping the edge of her desk. “What truth about Coralee? You know what happened to her?”

“It’s a long story. And one not meant to be uttered over the phone.”

“So, what are we supposed to do?” asks Nic. “We can’t just drop everything and fly out there on the hunch of a, of a--.”

“A psychic, I know. I’ll come to you.”

Braun books a flight to Seattle. In the meantime, Alex paces her office and tries to process some of the information she’s learned. She doesn’t bother going home, doesn’t bother trying to stick to her sleep therapist’s regimen. Not when she knows sleep will be impossible. She’s too keyed up, too worried to sleep, even if she is exhausted. 

Her thoughts keep circling in on each other the longer the night goes on. Strand is missing. Coralee is alive. Braun seems to know more than he’s ever let on.

**III**

Braun’s flight lands early, just as the sun peaks over the horizon. There’s a duffle bag slung over his shoulder as he climbs out of the taxi. 

“We could have sent someone to pick you up,” Alex says, opening the door to the PNWS offices for him.

“I wanted time to gather my thoughts. What I’m about to tell you isn’t going to be easy.”

Alex ushers him into her office. 

Nic has nodded off in her short absence. After a long, sleepless night, she doesn’t blame him. She touches his arm as she goes by and he startles awake. “Whoa, sorry.”

Braun gives him an easy smile. “That’s quite all right. I can sense that it’s been a long time since anyone in this room has slept.”

Alex tries to keep the surprise off her face. Her insomnia is common knowledge to anyone listening to her podcast, after all. And the dark circles under Nic’s eyes are a dead giveaway.

“Shall we get to it?” Braun asks. He settles into the chair beside Nic. 

Alex sits down behind her desk. She pulls out her recorder, but Braun shakes his head. 

“The information I’m about to share cannot leave this office,” he says.

“Why not?”

“Because Strand is in danger.”

Alex’s heart skips a beat. “How do you know?”

Alex expects Braun to remind them of his psychic abilities, but instead, he shakes his head. “It’s a long story.”

“All we have is time,” Nic prompts.

“We may not have much left. So let me begin.” 

Braun shifts in his seat and Alex has to stop herself from snapping at him to get on with it. “Please,” she says.

“How much do you know about Strand’s father?”

“What does Strand’s father have to do with any of this?” Nic asks.

Braun gives Nic an even look. Nic smiles and runs a hand through his hair. “Sorry. Go on.”

“Dr. Strand has told us very little about his father,” Alex says.

“I’m not surprised. They were never particularly close. Howard would travel much of the time, leaving Strand to grow up largely without a father.”

“That sucks,” Nic says.

Braun nods. “He traveled all over the world, locating ancient artifacts. But not just any artifacts. He had a knack for discovering items with power.”

 

“Power?” Alex asks. “Like the Horn of Tiamat?” 

Braun nods. “I see Richard told you a little of it.”

“Some of the mythology behind it. A goddess symbolizing both creation and chaos. His father was obsessed with it, he said.”

“He was. It was his life’s work to find it. But it was a game to him, really. He didn’t believe in any of the power behind the items he was collecting, didn’t care about the hands in which his found treasures would end up.”

“You’re saying, what, that he should have?” Nic asks.

“For much of what he sold, no. Much of it was still valuable without any powerful symbology behind it. He’d sell to the highest bidder and that would be the end of it.”

“What makes The Horn of Tiamat any different?”

“There are certain parties that believe it can help usher in the end of the world.”

Alex surprises herself when she asks, “Can it?”

Braun simply smiles. 

“So, what does this have to do with Strand?” asks Nic. “He _definitely_ doesn’t believe in all of this.”

“He may not believe, but like his father, he’s been caught in between a fight between those who want the statue in order to destroy the world and those who want to stop them.”

“How do you know all of this?” asks Alex. “Strand doesn’t speak about his father and none of this came up in our research. How could you possibly know?”

“Coralee told me.”

Nic gives him a look of disbelief. 

“Coralee?” Alex asks. “She’s really alive? Do you know where she is?”

“Yes.” Before Alex can open her mouth to ask more, Braun holds up a hand. “She’s not ready to be found. Not just yet.”

“But how does she fit into all of this?” asks Nic. “How does _she_ have anything to do with Strand’s dad?”

Braun’s smile turns sad. “Strand meeting Coralee was not an accident. He was a struggling single dad, at the time, and Coralee was--is, I should say--exceptionally smart and extremely beautiful. It wasn’t a surprise that he fell in love with her.”

Alex doesn’t like Braun’s careful choice of words. “He fell in love. Not they?”

“Not at first, no. I think she grew to love him. It made what she needed to do all the more difficult. Especially with how much she loved Charlie.”

“What did she need to do?”

“It was believed that before he died, Howard Strand had discovered the location of The Horn. On his deathbed, he wrote a paper--a paper that was never published--describing the location of the artifact. Strand inherited it, along with the rest of Howard’s possessions, when Howard died.”

“She stole it,” Nic guesses.

Braun gives him an impressed look. “It took her years to find it, but she did.”

“And now, Thomas Warren has it,” says Alex. “Strand told me there is some kind of dig going on, where the paper said The Horn would be. He was the Warren on the tape of Coralee, wasn’t he?”

“Yes. They had been meeting for years, but not for sex as Strand assumed.” 

“So, she wasn’t having an affair,” she says. Somehow, the truth is even worse. Coralee had targeted Strand, had married him to get access to Howard’s paper, had disappeared without a trace after she’d found it, had left Strand to believe her dead for all of these years.

Had she ever loved him?

While Alex is lost in thought, Nic picks up the conversation. “You said there were two groups. I’m assuming that Warren and Coralee are on the good side?”

At Braun’s nod, Nic continues, “So, who has Strand? What do they want with him? What kind of danger is he in?”

“These people belong to a long-forgotten religious sect. They call themselves monks, but they do not follow the path of God. They need the Horn to complete the symphony they’ve been assembling, one meant to play a piece that I believe you have heard about during your investigation into the Black Tapes.”

Alex’s eyes go wide. “Alexander Scriabin’s _Mysterium_.” 

Braun nods. “They’ve been watching Strand. They must believe he knows something about the Horn’s location, or they would have just killed him.”

Alex’s head feels like it’s spinning. “How do we find him?”

Braun raises an eyebrow.

“You aren't suggesting--?” Nic asks, looking Braun up and down.

“I have worked with the police on many missing persons cases. I would like to help.”

When she looks at Nic, her eyes are pleading. “We don’t have any other way to locate him. We have no idea where to even _start_.”

“And time is an important factor. I feel guilty enough as it is. I’ll never forgive myself for not trying harder if we are--if we are too late.”

Nic doesn’t look convinced, but Alex can’t say that she isn’t skeptical of Braun’s psychic ability either. She’s desperate, however, and Braun is their best chance.

With a look at Alex, Nic’s shoulders drop and he relents. “Okay, but I’m driving.”

**IV**

They drive for hours. Nic sits in the driver’s seat. Every so often, he asks Braun if they are heading in the right direction. Braun navigates, sitting with his eyes firmly on the horizon. Beyond what he’s told her of his abilities during their search for Sebastian Torres, she doesn’t have a clear idea how he knows where to go. Despite Strand’s assertion that Braun is a superb investigator, she doesn’t see him pull out a map or even a phone. 

Alex sits in the back seat, wishing for her trusty recorder. She’s gotten in the habit of thinking aloud into it while recording her Sleep Notes and she burns with the need to get her thoughts in order. Instead, she plugs her headphones into her phone and tries to drown them out with music. 

Eventually, the rumble of the car against the pavement lulls her to sleep. It’s a sleep so light that she can still feel her thoughts scrambling through her mind, struggling to find purchase, but none of them are very coherent. 

She comes back to awareness as Nic and Braun argue in the front seat. The car is parked and the sky just beyond the windshield is dotted with starlight.

“We can’t stop,” Nic says. He keeps his voice hushed, unaware that Alex is now awake.

“You’re tired. You nearly ran us off the road back there. Let me drive.”

“I’ll stop for coffee and be good to go--”

“Let him drive, Nic,” Alex says, meeting her friend’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “I’ll stay up with him.”

Nic looks like he wants to argue, but he unbuckles his seatbelt without more than a tired sigh. 

They trade places on the side of a quiet highway. Braun has to move the seat back to accommodate his longer legs. Alex settles into the passenger seat. Nic curls up across the back seat and closes his eyes.

Braun seems to know once Nic has fallen asleep, even without taking his eyes off of the road stretching out before them. “You’ve placed a lot of trust in me.”

“What do you mean?”

He glances over at her and when he smiles, Alex can’t help but think that where Strand’s smile is somewhat lopsided and secretive, Braun’s smile is much more disarming in how easily it comes to him. Strand shows his amusement in the lines around his eyes and with small huffs of laugher. Braun smiles with his entire face, showing off rows of slightly crooked teeth.

“You have a healthy amount of skepticism. Nowhere near the level of certainty that Strand has, yet you’ve taken me at my word. You’re trusting me to find Strand, using abilities you don’t know if you believe in.”

“Are you saying I shouldn’t trust you? Because right now, you’re my only shot at finding Dr. Strand. I can’t just sit around and do _nothing_ while the police won’t even acknowledge the danger he might be in.” Alex pulls her knees into her chest, making herself as small as she can while perched in her seat. “He wouldn’t have just left. I know--I know it’s not out of character for him to disappear, but he was looking for his wife during those five days. No, something happened and you’re the only one with any answers. I _need_ to be able to trust you.”

Braun takes his eyes off the road for a brief second, flashing her another smile. “It might not mean much, but you can trust me.”

Alex offers him a weak smile in return and turns to stare at the landscape just beyond her window.

She doesn’t mean to fall asleep again, but when she opens her eyes, Nic is gently shaking her awake.

“Where are we?”

“Braun says somewhere in California.”

“California? Are we--is this where Strand is?”

Nic shrugs.

She unbuckles herself and gets out of the car, stretching cramped limbs sore from the long ride.

“This way,” Braun calls. He motions them into a wooded area, down a path that Alex would never have noticed on her own. The entrance is cleverly blocked by a camouflaged net that Braun swings back. He holds it open while Nic and Alex go ahead of him.

They walk, the sun shining down on them through the trees, high in the midmorning sky. They walk until they reach a tower, a tower which seems to rise out of the ground, sudden and unexpected in the middle of a forest. It’s clearly abandoned. The windows have all been blown out and the brick is covered in graffiti. The grass around the base is overgrown, except for a dirt path which leads to the entrance. 

“At least it isn't a cabin,” Nic mutters next to her.

Alex isn’t sure a creepy tower in the middle of nowhere is any better, but at least they hadn’t needed a Runner to reach it. Just a tall psychic, one already trying the door.

“It’s unlocked,” he says, and pushes the door open.

As far as Alex can tell, the place is empty. Junk food wrappers and rusted cans of spray paint litter the floor. A card table stands in the approximate center of the first floor, missing one of its legs and surrounded with plastic lawn chairs that are green with mold.

They find a flight of stairs leading up to the next floor. Alex goes first, nearly running up the steps. She’s breathless at the top, but it’s nothing compared to the breath that’s knocked out of her when she finds him.

Strand sits slumped in a chair in the center of the room. Ropes crisscross around his middle, holding his arms at an awkward angle behind his back. His legs have been secured to separate legs of the chair. She can’t see his face, but as she steps closer, she can hear him take shallow, wheezing breaths. 

Behind her, Alex hears Nic curse.

Strand groans. He lifts his head and blinks at them slowly, as if the simply movement requires effort.

As she moves closer, she sees that there is bruising just under his left eye. His lips are cracked and split. There is blood, all of it dry, down one side of his face, originating somewhere under his hair. Even as she comes to stand just in front of him, his eyes don’t focus on her.

“Please. I don’t know anything,” he says, dropping his head like it was simply too heavy to hold up. His voice is a hoarse rasp in the otherwise quiet.

“Richard, it’s me.”

“A-Alex? No, no, no, Alex, you have to leave. You need to go. Please, Alex, please--”

She shushes him, running her hands through hair caked with oil, dust, and blood. He flinches, but his eyes fall closed and he sags into her. Alex cradles his head where it rests against her collarbone. “We’re going to get you out of here. Just hang on.”

He shakes his head against her skin, breath trembling. “They’re dead. They’re dead. They killed them.”

“Who? Who’s dead?”

“The Hochmans,” Braun says. Neither he nor Nic have moved away from the entrance.

“Braun?” Strand looks up at Alex for an answer.

“He led us here,” she explains. “The Hochmans had a baby. Did you see what happened to him?”

Strand shakes his head. “I didn’t _see_ anything.”

Alex thinks the implication there is that Strand heard _everything_. She doesn’t ask about it, not yet. They’ll have time for that later.

“What happened to your glasses?”

“Broken.”

Nic finally moves into the room. “We should get him untied. We don’t know when someone will be coming back.”

He starts to work on the knots behind Strand. When the ropes fall away, Braun comes in to help Strand stand. 

Strand gasps with pain, arms around his middle.

“Your ribs are broken,” Braun says.

Strand laughs, but the sound is full of pain and unpleasant. “Thank you, Dr. Charlatan.”

Braun doesn’t look offended. Instead, he smiles and puts an arm around Strand’s waist. “Nic, get his other side.”

Nic looks uncertain. “Shouldn’t we call an ambulance?”

“No,” Strand and Braun say, at the same time.

Strand frowns. He’s still having trouble focusing his eyes. Alex has seen him take his glasses off before, during long nights of investigation. She’s seen him take them off and set them aside, has had a conversation with him while they sit atop a pile of books. He’d been able to focus then. His cool blue eyes had settled on her just fine.

Something is wrong.

“They can’t do anything for bruises and broken ribs. Let’s get him home, where he can rest.”

“The people who took him know where he lives. We can’t bring him back to his apartment. Especially with it trashed.”

“Seattle,” Alex says. “He can come home with me.”

Nic frowns. “Alex--”

“I can look after myself, Nic.”

“Yeah? And what are you going to do when these monks show up at your door? You can’t carry Strand out of there yourself.”

“Who says they’ll be able to find my address? When MK wiped your information from public record, she did mine too. Or did you forget?”

Nic makes a frustrated sound, but he doesn’t argue further. He isn’t quite as tall as Strand or Braun, but he’s strong enough to help Strand down the long flight of stairs and into the car. 

Alex climbs into the back seat with him, wishing there was enough room in the car for Strand to lie down. They have a long ride in front of them, but even with his head lying in her lap, there is no way he’ll be comfortable. Instead, Strand leans against the car door, his face pressed to the glass and his arms wrapped protectively around his middle.

**V**

The nearly sixteen hour drive back to Seattle is quiet.

Nic and Braun drive as carefully as they can, trading off every few hours. Alex keeps expecting either one of them to request that she take a turn or two, but they leave her to her vigil over Strand.

Strand drifts in and out of sleep. He wakes, sometimes with a start and others with a whine of pain, but he doesn’t speak. She doesn’t try to make him. Even in sleep, each drag of breath he takes makes Alex wince in sympathy.

The car bounces, hitting an unavoidable pothole in the highway. Strand jerks awake with a hiss. 

Nic meets her eyes in the rearview mirror, giving her an apologetic look. Alex turns to Strand, about to ask him if he needs to stop for anything while he’s awake. She takes in the sight of him, frozen in the corner, his eyes wide, and realizes that he’s well and truly frightened.

Had he known where he was each time he’d woken in the last few hours, in pain and unable to see? Had he realized he was with friends before he slipped back into sleep each time?

He jumps a little when Alex grasps his hand, looks at her through wary, unfocused eyes when she laces their fingers together. 

“It’s me,” she whispers. “Alex. You’re in the car with Nic and me. Tannis Braun is here, too. We got you out, okay? You’re safe now.”

“Alex.” Her name is little more than a breath on his lips. He squeezes her hand and holds on tight, even as he loses the battle with consciousness once more.

For the rest of the drive, despite her hand going numb in his grip, Alex makes sure to grasp his hand in hers whenever he wakes. He gives her a tired, grateful look each time, and each time Alex repeats her earlier words: “We got you out. You’re safe now.” 


	2. Part Two: Recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those of you who haven't been following my adventures in editing this fic on tumblr should know that the previous chapter has been heavily rewritten. Before reading this chapter, you may want to go back and re-read the previous one.

**VI**

Nic and Braun help her to get Strand up to her apartment. They disappear into Alex’s bathroom with him and help him to get cleaned up. She hadn’t wanted Strand to have to change back into the clothes he had previously been wearing, dirty with blood and sweat and grime, but Braun had stopped her fretting, wordlessly holding up his duffle bag.

Had the psychic seen the need to pack clothes for Strand? Or had it just been the logical thing to do?

Alex lets her mind puzzle over these questions as she turns down the comforter on her bed. She pulls down extra blankets from her closet and pulls a chair from her dining room into her bedroom. She eyes the closed door of her bathroom and worries at her bottom lip with her teeth. She’s just about to go to the kitchen to make tea, just for something to do, when the door opens.

Nic and Braun hold Strand up between them as they half-carry him over to the bed. Strand looks like every last bit of energy he’d had has been spent. His eyes are closed even before they get him into bed. He breathes short and shallow and Alex worries about pneumonia. 

They let Strand sleep. 

In her living room, Nic and Braun collapse onto different ends of her sofa. Alex curls up into her favorite armchair, pulling her bare feet up under her.

“Strand is heavier than he looks,” Nic complains. “Which is to say, he’s way too thin.”

“I doubt they fed him,” Braun says. “But Strand hasn’t been eating long before he was taken.”

“He’s been busy,” Alex says. It’s Strand’s usual excuse. Without Alex and Ruby hounding him, he forgets to eat entirely, his mind too occupied on his research to listen to the growl of his stomach. “I’ll make sure he eats something.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay taking care of Strand by yourself?” Nic asks.

Alex doesn’t want to have this argument again. “Amalia will be here. Unless she’ll be staying with you?”

Nic grins and scratches at the back of his head. “Uh, maybe?”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll call you if there are any problems, okay?”

“You better.”

Alex sits back and sighs. “I need a shower and a cup of coffee. In that order.”

“Go,” Braun says. “We’ll stay, in case Strand needs something.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Alex makes her way into her darkened bedroom. She feels her way toward her dresser, trying not to make too much noise as she pulls out a pair of sweats and an old T-shirt.

Strand shifts on the bed. “Please,” he says, his voice rasping against the pillowcase. “No more drugs.”

She freezes, her small bundle of clothing held to her.

“Dr. Strand?”

“Alex?”

She moves toward the bed, coming to stand at his side. Placing her hand just over his eyes, she turns on the lamp on the bedside table. Even with her makeshift shield, he still flinches away from the light. 

“Can you see me?” she asks. “I can have Ruby overnight a spare pair of glasses, if you have one.”

His hand slips out from beneath the comforter. He reaches out and when Alex realizes what he wants, she leans down a bit. 

Strand’s fingers ghost over the skin of her cheek. He looks almost in awe, his eyes finally, finally focused on her own. “You’re real.”

She smiles and holds his hand more closely to the side of her face, lets him feel the warmth of her skin, lets herself take comfort in the feel of him, safe and relatively sound. “I am. Did you think I wasn’t?”

“Thought you were a--a hallucination.” He takes a breath and Alex winces in sympathy when he makes a small sound of pain.

Alex places his hand back on the bed, squeezes it before she lets it go. “Let me get you something for your ribs--”

“No more drugs.”

“Richard, do you know what they gave you?”

He shakes his head, mussing his damp hair against the pillow. “No more.”

“I’m not going to give you anything you don’t want. But you should take something for the pain. You need to be able to take deep, even breaths. The last thing you need is to catch pneumonia with your ribs broken.” 

When he doesn’t answer, Alex squeezes his hand again. “Please? Just some ibuprofen.”

Strand turns his head away, the fight leaving him. “Fine.”

She drops her pile of clothes on the sink in her bathroom and opens up the medicine cabinet. She pulls the entire bottle of ibuprofen out and shows it to him before she shakes twice the recommended dose into her palm. She fills a small paper cup with water and helps him to sit up so that he can swallow without choking.

“Rest,” she says once he’s settled back against the pillows. She pulls the comforter up to his chin. “You’re safe here.”

**VII**

Alex finally manages to take a long, hot shower. She steps into her sweat pants and tosses the tee over her head while avoiding eye contact with the mirror. She doesn’t like how her sleepless nights have bruised the skin underneath her eyes a permanent shade of purple. She can’t imagine how the worry of the last few days sits upon her skin.

She tiptoes out of her bedroom, pausing at the door only to check for the sound of Strand’s breathing. It seems to come a little easier now and for that, Alex is grateful.

Both Nic and Braun are asleep. Alex almost laughs at the sight of the two men, their heads thrown backwards against the back of the sofa, mouths slightly parted. 

She can’t blame them. Not when it’s nearing four in the morning. Not when the little sleep they’ve gotten in the last few days can only amount to cat naps in the car.

It does put her at a little of a loss, however. After her shower, she feels wide awake. Or as wide awake as she gets these days. And with Strand in her bed, Amalia undoubtedly asleep in Alex’s guest room, and Nic and Braun sharing the couch, there isn’t really anywhere she can go.

She makes a bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee and takes both out to her balcony. The early spring air is chilly, but not cold. As she eats her cereal, she pulls out her phone and sends a few quick texts to Ruby, updating her on Strand’s whereabouts and asking her to send a spare pair of glasses as soon as she’s able.

Alex doesn’t expect a response at such an early hour, but her phone buzzes with a quick succession of messages.

_Thank fuck._

And then:

_Sorry. Language._

And:

_There’s a pair at the office. Will send ASAP._

And finally:

_Is he okay?_

Alex stares at the question for a long time, uncertain how to answer. She starts to type several things only to delete them. She ends up sending only three words:

_I hope so._

The glass door to her balcony slides open and a frantic Nic waves her inside. “Hurry.”

He doesn’t wait for her to follow him. Nic slips back into the apartment and Alex has to scramble out of her chair to follow him. He leads her toward her bedroom, where she can hear Braun speaking, quiet yet urgent.

Strand is sitting up in bed, supported by Braun. At first, Alex thinks Braun might be hurting him, but as she approaches them, she can hear Braun saying, “Breathe. Richard, breathe. You need to breathe.”

“We need to call 911,” Nic says, looking back at Alex as if she’s the deciding factor in an argument he and Braun have already had. 

Braun shakes his head, “He’s having a panic attack. It’ll pass in a few minutes.”

“Yeah, if he passes out!”

Strand wheezes in the bed, arms around his middle. There’s a fear in his eyes that she’s never seen before, even more powerful than the glimpse she’d seen in the car, when he’d been too out of it to recognize that he’d been rescued, that he was out of his captor’s hands and on his way home with friends.

Alex climbs onto the bed next to Strand, careful not to crowd him. She takes one of his hands in her own, just as she’d done in the car, and squeezes it.

His grip is tight when he squeezes back, holding onto her like that single point of contact is the only anchor he has as he struggles to breathe.

Perhaps it is.

“Richard, listen to me.”

His eyes find hers.

“Tell me where you are.”

“I don’t--I don’t know,” he gasps.

“You’re in my apartment. You’re safe in my bed. Nic and Tannis Braun are here with us. Do you remember?”

He shakes his head, whimpers when the movement jostles his ribs. Braun rubs gentle circles high on Strand’s back, still encouraging him to breathe.

“It’s okay. It’ll come back to you. Just focus on me, okay?”

He gulps down another shallow breath, but his gaze stays locked with her.

“Do you remember when we first met?”

Strand nods.

Alex smiles as the memory comes back to her. “You were so annoyed. You hid it very well, but I could tell. An interview with a journalist who called you how many times?”

“Eleven,” he says.

“An interview with a journalist who called you eleven times was the last thing you wanted to do. But you did it and even let me come back on the pretense of getting your photo. Why was that?”

“Your assistant’s equipment was--was stolen.”

“That’s what I told you, but why did _you_ agree to a second meeting? You must have known that I was curious about your Black Tapes.”

The breath he takes comes a little easier. His shoulders relax a little from where he’d been hunched into himself. “You were interesting. Clever.”

“I thought the same of you,” Alex says.

Strand’s eyes drop to the comforter still draped over his legs. There’s a sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead. He looks exhausted, but present.

“Is he okay?” Nic asks from somewhere behind her. Alex had completely forgotten he was even in the room.

“I’m right here, Nic,” Strand says.

“Oh. Sorry. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Strand glares at Braun, “Don’t you have a missing puppy to find?”

Braun smiles. “I’d say we already found him, wouldn’t you Miss Reagan?”

Strand tries to shrug Braun away from him. There’s a pink tinge spreading across his face that deepens in color when Alex laughs. “Yes, well, I’d appreciate it if you’d take your hands off me, Braun. I’d like to lie down.”

Braun’s smile curls even wider. “What, no Dr. Charlatan this time?”

There’s an instant of confusion, which Strand tries to cover by glaring at Braun with even more ire. “What?”

It occurs to Alex that Strand probably doesn’t remember what he’d said to Braun, if he’d been drugged at the time. She doesn’t think Strand would want either Braun or Nic to know about the drugs, so Alex steps in before the inevitable argument can even start.

“Nic! Why don’t you take Braun to get checked into a hotel? I’m sure you’d both like a shower and a change of clothing. We can regroup later, after we’ve all had some time to recharge.”

The twinkle in Braun’s green eyes tells her he knows exactly what she’s doing. “That sounds like a fine idea. Shall we go, Mr. Silver?”

**VIII**

Alex shows the two men to the front door. She double-checks both the deadbolt and the chain before heading back to her bedroom. She expects Strand to have gone back to sleep, as exhausted as he is, but he stares up toward the ceiling.

“Let me turn off the lamp and then I’ll get out of your hair,” she says.

“No. Stay.”

Perhaps mistaking her surprise for something else, Strand continues. “Please. I can hear them screaming, even in my dreams.”

The Hochmans.

Alex sits down, hard, in the chair next to the bed. “I’m so sorry.”

“I couldn’t--” he starts. He swallows and tries again. “I couldn’t tell them what they wanted. I don’t know _anything_ about my father’s work.”

“You don’t have to tell me, if you aren’t ready. We just got you back. _I_ just got you back.”

As if he hadn’t heard her, Strand continues. “The woman. She cried a lot. When they weren’t hurting her. The husband--he must have been in shock. He kept asking me--pleading with me--to tell the people holding us hostage what they wanted to know. But I--” 

“You couldn’t. There was nothing you could do.”

“They screamed for so long. And then there were gunshots. Two, quick and efficient. And they weren’t screaming anymore.”

A tear runs down her face, unbidden. Alex scrubs it away.

She wants to hug Strand, hold him, convince him that she’ll never let anything like this happen again. It’s a strong urge, only satisfied in the slightest when she takes his hand again. 

He turns his face toward her and smiles, just a quick twitch of his lips. “Thank you,” he says.

“For what?”

His eyes drop to where their fingers are laced together. “For keeping me grounded.”

“We’re going to find them,” Alex says, shocking herself with the ferocity in her voice. She means every word. “We’re going to find them and stop them. Even if we have to find the Horn of Tiamat ourselves.”

Strand sighs, following it with a groan when it disturbs his broken ribs. “I was afraid you’d suggest something like that.”

“We’ll worry about that later. Right now you need to rest.”

Alex has a feeling they’ll all need their strength for what’s coming next.


End file.
